Want me
by Mark Ash
Summary: Kurt is a normal teenage boy with normal teenage needs. And Dave Karofsky is… a secret webcam whore? Smutty in places, but not for lack of trying. AU from Never Been Kissed.
1. Give me a chance

_Blaine might be presumptuous and insensitive, but he's also kind, sweet and completely genuine. I'm not going to just spoil that by pretending he's an ass. So instead of complicating things, this story is AU from _Never Been Kissed_; Kurt stays at McKinley, and his relationship with Blaine simply doesn't develop any further than friendship. There we go._

_Also, both Karofsky and Kurt are _minors_, what they are doing is _illegal_ and I do not condone _any_ of their actions. In particular, if I were his father, Karofsky would be in for a long, stern chat about self-respect across the dining table and his computer would be staying in the lounge until he graduated._

* * *

><p>Kurt Hummel was many things. A fashion icon; a gifted counter-tenor; a good student; an out-and-proud flamer in a city so conservative that one of its newspapers had rallied against public libraries in the '50s.<p>

He was also a teenage boy.

His chances of getting any action at McKinley were slim. No one else was out at school; he knew of precisely one other gay student, and the only boning that guy was getting was from the skeletons in his closet. Short of developing a slushie fetish, when his hormones overtook him he had little choice but to take matters into his own hands.

Fortunately, unlimited broadband and the generosity of anonymous hunks on the Internet made that a lot easier. All it took were a few search terms on a site whose URL he had committed to memory (and thank God for private browsing, because there was _no way _he was going to risk that popping up with someone looking over his shoulder) and soon, he would have more than enough material to keep him occupied for the next ten minutes.

Grabbing some lotion and pulling the tissues closer, he lied about his date of birth, waited for the page to load and tapped "hot football player_"_ into the search bar. He had always had a thing for football players. So sue him, he liked his man candy big and dumb. Finn, Sam… Heck, even Puck, though Kurt would never admit aloud to finding that mohawk remotely adorable. He'd felt weird thinking about people he knew, though. People he would never meet on the Internet—especially when they _wanted_ people to look at them—were a different matter entirely.

Scanning the results, he saw several that looked promising and some he had already seen. He paused for a second; he had watched quite a few (supposed) football players recently, and while he wasn't exactly tired of them he wouldn't mind a little… _variety_ tonight. He went back to the search box, highlighted the keywords and bit his lip in thought. After a moment, he changed them to "cute hockey jock" and pressed enter.

A new set of thumbnails loaded. Opening a few in new tabs, he quickly turned down his speakers and waited a few seconds for the videos to start buffering so he could take his pick.

_Hmm, this guy's a bit too skinny for me,_ he thought, closing the first video. The second guy had nice abs, but you couldn't see his face; he knew from experience that he had to see their eyes to get off properly, so he quickly moved on to the third guy.

And immediately closed all the other tabs.

The guy he'd settled on wasn't particularly handsome. He still had all his clothes on, so it was hard to tell if he liked his body. Neither of those were the reason for Kurt's wide eyes or parted lips. Almost without thinking, he switched the video to full screen, taking in the rounded face, the shy eyes, the broad shoulders, the big hands and wide arms. The letterman jacket slung over the back of the black sofa on which he was sat.

_No way,_ he thought. _I'm dreaming. This isn't happening. That can't possibly be who I think it is…_

Silently, on the screen in front of him, Dave Karofsky opened his mouth and started to speak.

* * *

><p>Public School Enemy No. 1 appearing out of nowhere when he'd been expecting porn was more than Kurt's head could deal with. Quickly, he pressed pause, any thoughts of sexual release fleeing to make room for a more urgent and pressing matter:<p>

_What the hell?_

Breathing heavily, Kurt stared at the still image on his screen. Karofsky's mouth hung open mid-sentence. The boy looked nervous; his fingers frozen mid-fidget, his posture a transparent pretense at relaxation. He was sat back on the couch, his hands kneading his knees and his eyes fixed on the camera like it was a rattlesnake.

Shaking off the irrational feeling that the other boy could see him too, Kurt made a heroic effort to muster his thoughts into something that made sense. He soon realised that this wasn't going to work, and settled for sitting in silence for a few moments until his brain decided they were on speaking terms again.

_What the hell?_ he asked himself for the second time. Since Karofsky was still there and he hadn't wakened up, this obviously wasn't a dream and there really was a video of Karofsky on a site that was basically YouTube for porn. Forcing his hands to move he escaped out of full screen and sought the video description.

**"hey guys sup, sorry im a bit shy in this its my first time doing a video. um, so i know im not everyones type but please give me a chance im working on losing sum weight so be nice? Thanx :)"**

Kurt read the description twice. The significance wasn't lost on him; he could practically hear his own words being echoed back at him. He felt a stab of guilt—was he the reason that Karofsky was parading himself around for strangers on the Internet? There was something gently desperate about those words, a yearning for approval that, Kurt supposed, the closeted hockey player wasn't going to hear from another boy any time soon.

As much for something for his hands to do as out of interest, he clicked on the profile link for "bighockeyjock2010". There wasn't much there beyond that he played hockey and was a fan of the Red Wings, and that he had only uploaded one video to the site since joining. Karofsky wouldn't want to say too much, Kurt supposed; for one thing, he wouldn't want people finding out his real identity, and for another he was under-age. Kurt felt a sick twist in his stomach when the realisation hit him. With his face and build, Karofsky could easily pass for an eighteen-year-old, but it meant that at least some of his 54 viewers might have unknowingly committed a misdemeanour.

Going back to the video, Kurt once again looked at the frozen face of his former bully. Did he really want to see this? Heck, this guy had had made his life a misery. If it weren't for the shock of nearly being expelled, he'd probably still be throwing slushies in his face daily rather than just glowering at him in class or pretending to ignore him in the corridors.

The more he thought about it, the more it seemed like a terrible idea. Most of the videos on this site featured boys getting naked and doing… well, sex things, and given that Karofsky was openly talking about his body in the description there was no reason to suppose that he wouldn't be doing exactly the same.

Standing up, Kurt paced a little, seriously weighing his morbid curiosity against his desire to be able to masturbate ever again—because he was pretty sure that watching Karofsky jerk off would ruin the experience for him forever.

But could he really pass up this opportunity? Not that Kurt _wanted_ to see Karofsky naked; he was pretty sure that was the last thing he'd enjoy. But seeing his tormentor bashful and vulnerable, completely unaware that he was exposing himself to his long-time victim? That held a certain vindictive appeal, Kurt had to admit. And it wasn't like he was doing something wrong, he reasoned; Karofsky had put the video online for any anonymous pervert to enjoy, and if it weren't for the fact that Kurt had recognised him he'd probably have already finished watching or flicked to someone more appealing.

In the end, all it took was a second glance at Karofsky, still sat unmoving on his computer screen, and Kurt was resigned to his fate. Three important facts solidified in his mind. One, Karofsky was still clothed. Two, he could just close the window any time he wanted if he started to freak out. And three, he knew that no matter how strong his resolve, eventually sheer curiosity would force him to watch it, so he might as well get it over with.

His heart already beating a little faster, he sat down, fished out his headphones from the desk drawer and plugged them in so he could listen without anyone overhearing. He dragged the slider to the start of the video, put it back on full screen and pressed play.


	2. You like that?

_First—thanks so much to everyone for the reviews and alerts! What an awesome response!_

_OK, so I'm going to have to renege on the not being totally smutty; I hope you don't mind, and I apologise if you do. My first draft of the chapter didn't go much into the specifics of the video or Kurt watching it, but for continuity's sake I hashed something out separately, not actually planning to include it in the story. However, when I read it over, I realised that I just couldn't tell this story honestly without being specific, even if it meant being way more explicit than I'm comfortable with. (Also, I guessed a few of you would send me angry messages if you found out I had kept those scenes from you after writing them!)_

_In other words, filth warning ahead. And again, so you don't miss it: they're kids, this is illegal and I don't condone it any more than Nabokov condoned Humbert Humbert._

* * *

><p>Dave started recording and stepped back quickly to sit on the couch. His hands settled on his knees, clenching and unclenching a couple of times.<p>

_It's show time,_ he thought. _Look at the camera, act relaxed… It's no big deal if I mess up, I can just do another take._ Clearing his throat didn't help much, so he started talking.

"Hey. So as you can see, this is my first time doing anything like this. I'm feeling kinda pumped about it." _My heart's beating so loud you can probably hear it._ "It's kinda messy in here, I hope you don't mind. But I guess you didn't really come here to look at my room, right? Um. I suppose I better get down to it. Hope you guys like it."

Breathing deeply, Dave grabbed at the bottom of his t-shirt and pulled it up over his head. As it came up, he tried to lean back and tense up a little so that he looked a bit less fat, but he felt pretty sure it wasn't working. He threw it to the side and smiled nervously up at the camera, rubbing a hand over his belly.

"So yeah, I work out a bit most days. I know you probably can't tell, but there's some muscle under all that hair. And, um, fat. I'm working on that."

_I'm talking too much,_ he thought. _Just stick to the script. They're here to see me jerk off, not listen to me emo._ Reaching down, he grabbed at the crotch of his jeans and rubbed himself through the fabric, trying to make it look sensual like some of the other videos he'd watched. After a few seconds, he swallowed against at the lump rising in his throat and licked his lips.

"You like that? You wanna check out my junk? Is that what you want?" He did his best to smile enticingly, though he suspected he just looked constipated or something. With his free hand he undid the button on his jeans and slowly pulled down the zip, revealing some non-descript grey boxers. Once he's fully unzipped he stood up and pushed the jeans down, shimmying the rest of the way out before sitting back down.

He spread his legs farther, stroking himself through the boxers. He'd worried earlier that he wouldn't be able to get hard, but he seemed to be doing OK. Somewhere in his head, a voice was screaming that this was a really bad idea; he quashed it and focused on sexy thoughts._ Sam lathering up in the shower after practice… Kurt in those skinny black jeans that cling to his ass and thighs…_

It seemed to work. Blood pumped through his nether regions and he felt a bit more relaxed. His breathing was heavy; he muttered thickly, "Yeah, this is what you want to see. You want to see more of this? I'll show you some more."

He pulled his cock out of his pants, and after stroking it for a few seconds he ditched the boxers entirely. He raised his butt off the seat to pull them down his thighs, trying to make sure the camera had a good angle on everything. Now entirely naked, he leant back further and pumped at his penis—gently at first, but slowly increasing in speed and pressure.

His breath came out in short gasps; his head lolled back, and he could feel his face flushing with the effort. As he jerked off with one hand, his other wandered over his thighs, grabbing his balls a few times to help things along.

He came after a couple of minutes, groaning loudly and with semen spilling messily over his hairy stomach. For a few seconds he lay back, his eyes closed and feeling out-of-breath. Slowly, he opened them and looked down at his fingers, which were covered with pre-ejaculate. An urge took him; doing something he'd only ever seen other people do, he raised his hand and sucked on his index finger, looking up at the camera as he did. It mostly just tasted of sweat, to his surprise; he'd thought it would taste stronger. Now that he'd got his breath back, he decided to wrap it up.

"Well, I'm pretty dirty now, I better go and clean up. Thanks for watching, hope you liked it" _God, please say you liked it._ He gave the camera a big, fake grin before standing up and reaching out to stop recording.

* * *

><p><em>I can stop watching any time I want,<em> Kurt told himself. _It's not like I really want to see him naked._ The thought ran through his head several times and it reassured him, right up until Karofsky pulled his dick out of his boxers.

Kurt thought his heart might have missed a beat as he stared, unable to look away, at Karofsky's "junk". To his vague irritation, his CKs were getting pretty damn tight, his body ignoring his better judgement entirely. He dimly admitted that he definitely wasn't going to stop watching as his hands reached for his pants.

Deciding that he may as well finish what he was had planned on doing anyway, he pulled himself out of his underwear and started jerking off in earnest. His eyes roved over the jock's body, though they kept returning to his big hand, beating out a steady rhythm. Karofsky hadn't been kidding about being hairy. He was also pretty wide, though Kurt couldn't tell how much of his belly was muscle and how much was fat. It didn't really matter right now, given how freaking horny he felt.

Kurt was getting close by the time Karofsky came, watching with equal parts fascination and excitement as he shot load after load onto his stomach and lay back panting. When the other boy sucked on his sticky, wet finger it sent Kurt over the edge. He grabbed a wad of tissues just in time, warmth suffusing his body in waves.

Unfortunately, the pleasant warmth lasted only a few seconds before giving way to other, colder feelings. Shame, guilt and horror pulsed dully in his chest and competed for his attention. He had just shot his load over a boy who had slushied, shoved and locker-checked him more times than he could count. He still flinched when he saw a red letterman jacket passing him in the corridor; he'd spent three days pleading with his dad and Carole not to send him to another school because of him. How could he get turned on by a vicious Neanderthal like Karofsky?

Worse, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something _wrong_ with this, that he was invading the other boy's privacy. Irrational, he told himself, since the other boy had effectively jerked off for the benefit of the entire Internet, but he bet that Karofsky hadn't expected someone he knew to find him—in fact, he'd probably been _terrified_ they would. It shamed Kurt deeply to admit it, but the thought of seeing his erstwhile tormentor so vulnerable had actually given him a rush at the time.

And—oh God—he was going to see Karofsky in school tomorrow. They shared French together; Karofsky sat just a couple of rows back from him. How was he going to sit in the same room as him without thinking about him getting naked, his hands shaking as they pulled off his shirt, his quavery voice as he tried to sound sexy? Could he really keep quiet about this?

Hoping to distract himself, he got up and started getting ready for bed. He changed out of his clothes and put them in the laundry before starting on his night time moisturising routine. (If anyone asks he says it takes him an hour; it actually only takes half an hour, giving him time to jerk off undisturbed if he needs it.)

As he wiped a pad of toner over his cheeks, his mind ran over what Karofsky had said when he took off his shirt. He'd said that he was fat, and Kurt remembered how, back in the locker room, the boy had bristled when he'd called him "chubby". At the time, Kurt hadn't really meant it; he just wanted the words to sting, but now he wondered if the tall jock had taken his words to heart? He'd mentioned it in the description too, he recalled with a wince. All he wanted to do was make it clear he wasn't interested, not shatter the boy's self esteem.

That brought him back to wondering what had possessed Karofsky to post a video online, and if he had played a part in the decision. Loathe as he was to admit it, life probably wasn't easy for an athlete in the closet; Karofsky probably wouldn't get to date another guy until college, maybe later. Kurt hadn't heard of him having a girlfriend, but he wondered if he'd ever tried. It was likely that at least a few girls had hit him up. What did he do? Did he reject them, or did he feel forced to show an interest? Maybe he would date them to keep up appearances and wait for them to get bored or cheat. Kurt wondered what stuff he might have done with girls. Had Karofsky ever kissed a girl? Touched their boobs? Let them touch him? Would he even be able to keep it up long enough for a hand job?

And with that, Kurt was back to thinking about naked Karofsky. The hairy chest, the thick treasure trail leading down… He groaned. Tomorrow was going to be _Hell_.

* * *

><p>Mr. Schue was pointing at the board and explaining something about the conjugation pattern for the imperfect subjunctive. Judging by his expression, it was something really interesting and important, but for the life of him Kurt had no idea why. He couldn't have concentrated on the lesson if Stefani Germanotta herself was teaching it; how could he when he'd be sharing a class with Karofsky in less than ten minutes?<p>

His thoughts kept going back to last night. To a desperate hockey player baring his insecurities (and himself in the process) on camera. He had used him to scratch an itch, nothing more. The more he thought about it, the more he felt that maybe what he'd done to Karofsky was worse than having a kiss forced on you. At least then you had a chance to refuse, to pull away. At least then you _knew_ about it.

The bell rang, startling him out of his thoughts. He packed his stuff, grabbed his bag and made to leave, but Schue called his name and waved him over. He waited quietly to one side until the classroom was empty, getting a couple of interested looks but nothing more.

"Kurt, I noticed that you looked a bit preoccupied today, and I just wanted to check with you that everything's fine?"

Kurt made himself meet his teacher's eyes. "I'm fine, Mr. Schue. It's no big deal."

"Are you sure? You looked pretty worried about something. You know that you can talk to me, Kurt? Especially if it's something at school that's bothering you?"

"No, it's nothing like that. It's just…" Thinking quickly, Kurt decided that he could deflect Mr. Schue without lying, he just needed to speak carefully. "I think I might have said something to hurt someone. I mean, they were being an ass at the time, but I said some things to them that I don't know how to take back, and I think they might have taken them to heart."

Mr. Schue nodded sympathetically. "Well, that's not a good thing in itself, but the fact that you've recognised it is a start to making it right. Were the things you said true? Do you still stand by them?"

"I half-meant them at the time, but to be honest… I don't really know. I suppose I was only saying them to shut them up."

"In that case, it sounds like you can probably retract them without being dishonest."

Kurt forced himself to smile. "Yeah, I suppose I could. Now all I have to do is work out some way to talk to them."

"I'm sure you'll find a way. For one thing, I think you're too proud to let someone suffer because it's easier for you to stay quiet than to speak out." His smile was completely earnest, and Kurt knew Mr Schue really believed he's that good a person. It hurt, because he was going to let him down. Still, he thanked him for his advice and darted out the door for his next class.

When he arrived, most of the other students were already in their seats—including Karofsky. The jock's eyes moved to his as he walked in, and for some reason Kurt couldn't bring himself to look away. The eye contact lasted a couple of seconds and he could see that it was making the other boy uncomfortable; it was a relief, albeit a small one, when he reached his desk and turned around to sit.

All through the lesson Kurt could barely concentrate any better than he did in Spanish, but fortunately he's pretty good at French and was able to bluff his way through when the teacher directed a question at him. He could practically feel Karofsky's eyes boring holes into his back; at one point, he chanced a quick glance back and _ohmygod he's looking straight at me_ Kurt didn't risk it again for the rest of the lesson.

When class let up, he had his bag over his shoulder in record time and was one of the first out the door. As he walked quickly towards his locker, he heard heavy footsteps hurrying towards him. He tensed as Karofsky came abreast and matched his speed.

"Hummel." His voice was neutral, not obviously angry or displeased.

"Karofsky."

"You were looking at me in French. And now you're avoiding me."

"_You_ were looking at _me_ in French. I'm avoiding you because I don't want to find out why."

"Fuck you, Hummel," Karofsky breathed angrily. "I've left you alone for weeks now. Why would I want to change that?"

Kurt affected an airy tone. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe because I'm happy with who I am and you can't stand it?" He can sense a biting remark coming up, and clamps down heavily on his tongue.

Karofsky, oblivious to how close he was to being verbally disembowelled, carried on regardless. "I'm _fine_ with who I am, Hummel. I'm top dog around here. At least I don't have to dress up like a princess to make myself feel pretty and special."

He couldn't hold it in any longer. Anger provided the perfect channel to let his building anxiety to burst to the surface. He spun to face his ex-bully. "Sure, why don't you go put up another video about how much you like yourself? Maybe you'll be lucky and someone else will like you too."

As soon as the words were out he wanted to take them back, but they had the intended effect. Karofsky stopped in his tracks, his face a mask of horror. For once, Kurt didn't feel the slightest satisfaction for having left his bully speechless. Turning on his heels he started to walk off, but he didn't get more than a couple of steps before he felt Karofsky's hand on his shoulder.


	3. I don't mind

Kurt let himself be steered down another corridor, away from his locker and the steady stream of students heading for lunch. He felt light on his feet, as though the hand on his shoulder blade was holding him up as well as pushing him forward. Karofsky's grip was firm, but not tight; enough to keep him moving, but not enough to hurt.

They came to a stop outside an empty classroom. Without taking the hand off of his back, Karofsky stepped forward, looked around to make sure that no one saw and opened the door, pushing Kurt inside and following after. He closed the door behind them, taking a deep breath before he met Kurt's eyes.

Kurt felt a chill as the hand left him. Fear warred with guilt in his chest. The athlete looked absolutely terrified—his eyes wide and his lips compressed to a line. Finally, after a very uncomfortable silence, he asked shakily, "What did you mean, about a video?"

_He knows,_ thought Kurt. There was no point evading, so he spoke plainly: "I've seen it. The video you made."

Karofsky took a sharp breath, and Kurt wondered if the bigger boy was going to be sick. He'd never seen Karofsky look so pale; it was as though all the swagger and bravado had been sucked out of him, leaving just the scared little boy he was inside.

Pre-empting what he guessed was Karofsky's biggest concern, Kurt spoke quickly. "I won't tell anyone. No one needs to know, it can be just another secret, like the time you kissed me. You know I'd never out you, so you don't need to worry."

There was a moment of silence while Karofsky processed this information.

"Why?" he whispered finally. "Why won't you tell anyone? It would make things so much easier for you if you did."

Kurt had expected to be yelled at or threatened, so that trembling whisper caught him unprepared. A tug of compassion pulled him closer to the boy. He saw a shiver go through Dave's body, and on instinct he reached out and put a hand on his forearm. Dave jerked a little, but he didn't pull back; he looked down at Kurt's hand, watching the thumb move in soothing circles over his skin.

"I don't believe that people should cower in the closet forever, but nor do I believe in forcing them out if they don't feel ready. It's your choice to come out when you feel ready, and I won't take that away from you."

Dave's lips twitched into a brief, mournful smile at Kurt's words, but he still seemed on edge. "How did you find it? Does anyone else know about it?"

He really didn't want to explain this. "I wasn't looking for you… Let's just say I was looking for some cute hockey players last night, and it's not like I'm sharing tips with anyone."

Dave snorted, making Kurt feel a touch indignant. _He_ wasn't the one parading himself around online for anyone who wanted to get their jollies from him. With that thought, he looked at the arm he was still stroking gently. The hand hanging loosely by his side. The same hand Dave used last night, the finger he'd sucked when he was finished…

Kurt was staring at Dave's hand like it might burst into flame. Dave looked down too, and when he looked back up at Kurt he seemed to know exactly what he was thinking. Kurt pulled his hand away as though he'd been burned.

_Right, I can go now, there's nothing more I can say. Dave knows his secret's safe… Wait up, when did it become "Dave" all of a sudden?_ And then it hit him that here he was, making nice with his bully, a boy who had kissed him and harassed him. Who had threatened to kill him and nearly driven him out of the school, and Kurt had just went ahead and admitted to watching him jerk off and _now I'm thinking about him jerking off, oh God._

He had to get out. He needed some time to think—and he couldn't do that within arm's reach of a closeted hockey player who could probably break his neck if he wanted to.

"Dave… Karofsky, I don't think there's any reason for us to discuss this further. Just, be careful, please? Jacobs would have a field day if he found out about this. Obviously I won't tell anyone, but I'm not the only gay kid in Lima or even at this school, and some of them might not be so scrupulous as me."

Karofsky stayed silent, and Kurt took this as his cue to leave. He turned to go, but Karofsky put a hand on his shoulder again and with that, it was too much. Kurt was already on edge, and the sudden touch pushed him over the edge. He shrieked, twisting, and pulled away hard. "I'm sorry," he whimpered, backing towards the door. "I shouldn't have watched it, I didn't mean to, it was just there and I was curious, I didn't mean anything—"

"Kurt, what's wrong? I haven't done anything, why are you freaking out?" Karofsky's expression was genuinely puzzled, as though he couldn't see that this was a weird situation and it was totally natural to freak out about it. He took a step forward, arms outstretched, and Kurt yanked the door open and bolted. He heard Karofsky calling for him to wait, but he just ran faster.

Knowing Karofsky wouldn't follow him, he turned the corner and ran into the girls' bathroom, ignoring the startled glances as he threw himself, sobbing, into a stall and locked the door.

* * *

><p>Kurt had a lot of practice at avoiding Karofsky, so apart from a tense moment at his locker after lunch (with Mercedes at his side for backup) he had little trouble staying out of his way until school broke up.<p>

It was freezing outside. Kurt had wrapped himself up in his peacoat and a Marc Jacobs cashmere cardigan, but he still felt the chill. Walking across the icy car park, he was so intent on keeping his balance that he didn't notice the heavy footsteps following him until they were right behind him.

"Kurt."

He whipped around and slipped on a patch of ice. Moving faster than Kurt thought possible for someone his size, Karofsky stepped forward quickly and snaked an arm around his waist, pulling him up and holding him steady until he got his legs back under control.

Perhaps realising how intimate this looked, Karofsky released his arm and stepped back, raising his hands slightly as if to show that he wasn't carrying any weapons.

"I don't mind," he said.

Kurt stared at him blankly. "Don't mind what?"

"I don't mind that you saw it. That you watched the video."

"Is that all you came here to say?" Kurt asked, trying to look composed despite the urgent insistence of his reptilian brain to just run like Hell.

Karofsky looked conflicted, as though there was something he wanted to say but didn't know how to. After a moment he nodded, and Kurt turned away, steeling himself for another hand on his shoulder. When it didn't come, he suppressed a sigh of relief and walked off towards his car as calmly as he could, although his legs felt like they were turning to jelly.

Just as he was getting the keys out, Karofsky called his name again. He looked back over his shoulder to see that Karofsky was only a few feet behind him. He must have followed him over. _God, and people say I'm quiet._ "What?"

"Did you like it?"

Kurt opened his mouth, temporarily speechless. _Did he really just ask if I _liked_ his jack-off video?_ Karofsky looked completely serious, and seemed to be expecting an answer.

"Yes," Kurt replied eventually, keeping his eyes lowered and trying not to think too much about what the question—or his answer—might mean.

Karofsky nodded, apparently satisfied, and walked back across the car park.

Shaken, drained and confused, Kurt collapsed into his car and held his head in his hands. He gave himself a minute to pull himself together before he set off home with his stereo turned up.

* * *

><p><em>Thanks so much for reading, and especially the reviews! I put this online a little before I was ready; hopefully there aren't too many mistakes and it doesn't seem rushed. There isn't much dialogue yet, but I promise that's coming.<em>

_I am seriously debating whether I should just switch to US English for this story. There are a few times when the UK word or spelling seems to jostle with the setting: for example, "misdemeanour" vs "misdemeanor," or where I settled for "bathroom" as a medium between the more accurate"toilet" (UK) and euphemistic "restroom" (US). Opinions welcome._

_Fair warning: the next chapter is a few days off, but it might get a bit dirty. Like, maybe a lot. I'm not sure how descriptive I want to be yet, so we'll see._


	4. While the iron's still hot

Dave didn't think he'd felt so happy since Mom got him those shiny red ice skates for his ninth birthday.

When Kurt hit him with that line about making a video, Dave could almost feel his world crumbling around him. Did he know? Oh God, how _could_ he know? What if other people knew too? It would be the end of life as he knew it. Everyone would think he was gay, all of his friends would see how much of a freak he was. He'd go from being at the top of the social pyramid to being at rock bottom in minutes.

He knew what would happen, because he'd seen it happen before. It had happened to the Fabray girl when she got pregnant near the beginning of the school year, and her descent had been brutal. Everyone—and he meant _everyone_—seemed to operate on the unspoken understanding that her life was now over, and it was their job to pitch in a little bit. Sylvester dropped her from Cheerios, and he'd even heard that her parents threw her out. Sure, she came back out on top, but she'd had to claw her way there tooth and nail.

That wouldn't be an option for Dave Karofsky if word got out that he was a fag. Even those Glee Club losers would be above him. Heck, even _Kurt_ would be higher up the food chain, because at least Kurt would still have friends. Kurt had no idea what it was like to be in Dave's position. Sure, being top dog had its perks, but all it took was one slip and you were sliding down so fast you'd get friction burns on your ass. You didn't have friends where Dave was—you had alliances, unspoken agreements that could be broken at a moment's notice if you made yourself too weak.

Dave walked a fine line at McKinley. Kurt might not understand it, but Dave had no choice but to threaten him after the kiss. Kurt didn't know where he stood, swishing around in those fancy clothes as if he owned the place, so Dave had to _show_ him. Maybe he'd let it go to his head a bit, but having Kurt backed up against the lockers so he couldn't move, rubbing his finger down that bony chest, claiming his trophy from those soft, delicate hands… It was a rush, and what was the point of being on top if you couldn't enjoy terrifying the crap out of someone now and then?

(Though at the time, he'd been wondering: would Kurt chase him again? Would he try to take it back? Sometimes he got off to that, the thought of Kurt resisting, wrestling him, pressing his body against Dave's heedless of how much it turned him on…)

But in the end, he mostly did all that shit because Kurt had no idea how bad he could hurt Dave if he wanted to.

What would Kurt make of it if Dave fell? Maybe if Dave was closer to Kurt's level, things would be different. Kurt might take pity on him, and Dave would let him, because he'd have nothing left to lose and Kurt's pity was better than nothing. But the one time he'd tried to let Kurt know that they weren't so different, to stop the torrent of words lashing at his heart and just _show_ Kurt who he was and how he felt and what he wanted, Kurt had been… Shocked? Frightened? Repulsed? Dave hadn't been able to read all the emotions on the boy's face in the locker room, but he knew they were bad ones, and the shame and frustration still stung.

No, Kurt wouldn't pity him. All he'd see was the jock who had tortured him for the past two years getting what he deserved.

Besides, he wasn't even sure he was gay yet—never mind coming out to the whole freaking world.

These were the thoughts that had run through his head as he'd led a surprisingly meek Kurt away so that they wouldn't be overheard. The fear had spread like ichor from his heart, filling him, freezing him, leaving his body cold and hard. His blood had slowed to a trickle, his stomach turned to ice, his feet falling leaden with every step.

He didn't know what to expect from their brief encounter. He certainly didn't expect Kurt to _touch_ him, and he was glad he'd tied his Letterman around his waist so that Kurt's fingers clasped directly around his skin. The warmth from his touch melted the ice in his veins and pierced the cold fog in his lungs so that he could breathe again.

How could Kurt do that, just fill him up with sunshine with a touch?

Of course, it wasn't long before he was running out the room like Death himself was following. He just… evaporated for the rest of lunch, and when Dave finally found him he had a goddamn guard of honor.

But Fate must have been smiling on Dave Karofsky that day, because when he finally caught up to him in the parking lot he got to play the hero for once: scooping up Kurt's slender body like a knight rescuing a fair maiden, holding him mere inches from his chest before he let go. Scared that Kurt might freak out again or that someone might see—he wasn't sure which worried him the most. But it didn't matter; for a while he got to feel strong and manly, something he didn't often feel after an encounter with the slight sopranist.

That wasn't even the best bit, though. The cherry on the cake had been when Dave finally managed to ask Kurt what he'd been wanting to ask him all afternoon, since he'd established that Kurt wasn't going to tell anyone.

He'd asked if Kurt had liked the video.

And Kurt had said yes.

That was why Dave was so happy he felt like singing, or maybe just floating off until he broke through the sheet of gray clouds to a place where the sky was blue and he could bask in pure, unbroken sunlight.

Grinning broadly, he finished affixing the windshield cover on his old Ram and headed up the path to the front door.

"I'm home," he hollered, locking the door behind him. His parents would still be at work, but his older brother finished early today and was probably in his room studying.

A muffled "hey" from upstairs confirmed his guess, so he grabbed a Coke from the fridge, ran upstairs to dump his bag in his room and knocked on his brother's door. He got a non-committal grunt in response, which was the best he was going to get if Alex was studying, so he pushed open the door and stood at the threshold, leaning against the frame.

"S'up?" asked Alex, not looking up from what he was writing. From the way his eyes kept flickering to the textbook lying open next to his pad, it looked like maybe he was taking notes.

When Dave didn't answer after a few seconds, he looked up to see his younger brother grinning ear-to-ear.

"Did you get laid or something, bro'?"

"No, just… A girl at school told me she liked me today." The lie came to him easily, not even denting his good mood. He felt like he had to talk to someone or he would burst, even if it meant being liberal with the truth.

"That's great," said Alex, smiling. He turned back to whatever he was working on, but he kept on talking. "Is she cute?"

"The cutest," Dave said sincerely. "I've liked her since last year, but we weren't exactly best of friends, so it was a bit of a surprise. A good one, though."

"Yeah, I can tell. So did you ask her out?"

"Not yet… We're still just getting to know each other, it'll probably take time for us to get to know each other well enough to start dating."

Alex frowned. "You know, that's kind of the the _point_ of a date. Getting to know each other, finding out if you have anything in common…"

"Um, I suppose, but we'd rather just take things slow for now. See where they go."

His brother stopped writing, looking at nothing for a couple of seconds before sighing and putting down his pen.

"You know, normally I'd say that's great; not rushing things, taking your time, all that crap. But if you really like this girl and she really likes you, maybe it's time to take the next step? You don't need to do anything fancy. Just ask her if she wants to catch a movie or go for lunch some time. It's not a big commitment, and it gives you an opportunity to see what she's like outside of school, without her friends around—and gives her the same."

Dave chewed his lip, thinking. He knew there was no way he could ask Kurt out on a date, not in Lima anyway. Even if he said yes, where could they go without being seen together? But there was no way to explain that to his brother. He answered carefully.

"Yeah, I suppose. It's just, she's a bit skittish, you know? I'm worried I'll scare her off. But I'll definitely think about it. Maybe I'll give her a couple of days to chill out."

"Sure, you do that. Just don't wait too long, OK? If she likes you, chances are she won't turn you down, but people change their minds. You can't expect them to just wait around until you're ready. Make sure you strike while the iron's still hot."

"Thanks bro'. Hey, do you know what's for dinner?"

"Mom left a note saying there's last night's lasagne and salad in the fridge, you just need to warm it up in the microwave."

"God, I love Mom's lasagne, but every time she makes it you're eating it for days."

Alex snorted and went back to whatever he was working on. Dave took the hint and left, closing the door quietly, but he didn't go downstairs. Instead he went to his room to think.

Dave really respected his brother. Alex hadn't got the best grades at high school, but he knew how to work hard and was making up for it now. As well as studying for his associate's degree he was working part time as an auto-mechanic, saving up so he could transfer to a four year course when he finished.

What's more, he could be pretty insightful on occasion. Alex's advice would have made a lot of sense—if Dave had been telling the truth. Still, the last thing he'd said got him thinking. People change their minds… Strike while the iron's hot…

Dave wasn't stupid. He knew that Kurt saying he'd enjoyed watching him jack off wasn't the same as Kurt saying he liked him. But it was still _attention_, and Dave liked that a lot. Dave wasn't sure what he'd done to deserve Kurt's attention, but now he had it he couldn't afford to let it go.

He was also pretty sure now that there was no way Kurt was going to tell his secret; if Kurt had wanted to, he could have done it months ago, and after finding that video he didn't even have to worry about people not believing him. This was an opportunity for Dave to do what he'd tried—and failed—to do in the locker room that time: build a connection with Kurt, show him that they weren't so different after all.

His stomach rumbled, and he remembered that there was lasagne waiting for him downstairs. He grabbed his bag so he could do his homework while he ate and asked Alex through the door if he wanted some too; his brother declined, saying he'd have some later. He went down and nuked himself a slice, serving it with some salad; normally he'd have grabbed some tortilla chips to mop up the sauce, but he was trying to lose a few pounds and as of today he had a little more motivation.

As he worked his way through this morning's algebra assignment, he let his mind wander a little, thinking of how he could capture Kurt's interest a second time. Eating out or going to the cinema were out of bounds anyway, unless they drove to Columbus, and even then he was pretty sure Kurt would just say no. Knowing Kurt, the only way to capture his interest was performance art, but Dave couldn't sing or dance for crap.

When the answer hit him it was so clear and obvious that he couldn't believe it hadn't come to him earlier. If Kurt was really interested in him, there was one sure way to get his attention. All thoughts of homework chased from his mind, he let the idea take root, shaping it into a plan that—if he was very lucky—would have Kurt Hummel eating from the palm of his hand.

* * *

><p>The next couple of days were two of the oddest of Kurt's life.<p>

For one thing, he was both right and wrong about his prediction that watching that video would ruin masturbation for him forever. It wasn't like he'd forgotten that the boy was a monster in an oversized teenage body. But seeing his bully expose himself so completely, allowing Kurt to enjoy him intimately, was more exciting than Kurt could ever have guessed.

More than once Kurt found his mind drifting, reconstructing the events of the video, only to find himself with a raging hard-on. The worst was on Thursday, the day after the impromptu revelation. There was barely enough room in his skinny jeans as it was, and it happened just before the bell signaling the end of class. He took a lot longer than necessary to pack his stuff away, and when he finally got up from his desk he pretended that he was still sorting things in his bag as an excuse to obscure his crotch.

Even stranger than his new one-way ticket to arousal was how Karofsky started acting towards him. When they passed in the hall next morning, instead of the usual scowl Kurt could have sworn Karofsky flashed him a boyish grin. It was gone in a moment, but Kurt's heart fluttered involuntarily. _Get a grip,_ he schooled himself, managing to mostly forget about it for the rest of the morning.

He saw Karofsky again at lunch time. Kurt and Mercedes were in animated discussion about what colors would be in this Spring, and how to match them to their very different skin tones, when Karofsky passed their table. He didn't slow down or speak, but Kurt saw him glancing down at him with a carefully neutral expression. They both went quiet for a second while the jock passed, but once he was gone Mercedes resumed her thoughts on whether Kurt would look better in regatta blue or curacao. (Personally, Kurt's money was on barberry purple.)

That evening as Finn escorted him to Glee, he overheard a couple of hockey players hissing words like "fag" and "butt-buddy" as they walked past. Finn heard too, judging by the way he stiffened and looked straight ahead. Karofsky was with them, but instead of grinning and playing along, he looked down at the ground, as though ashamed to meet Kurt's gaze.

Similar scenes repeated themselves on Friday. Kurt's eyes goggled in French when Karofsky bent over his bag to pull out some books then deliberately looked back at him before straightening up. Kurt hadn't been checking him out, but from the way Karofsky was smiling to himself for the rest of the lesson he was sure the athlete thought otherwise.

_As if I would,_ thought Kurt, feeling flustered. _He probably has an ass like a school bus._ Then he blushed with the realization that Karofsky's butt was probably the only part of him he hadn't had a good look at.

When school let out for the weekend, Kurt felt as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Finn was getting a lift back with him today. They met at the car and talked about plans for the weekend on the drive back. There was a sale on at the mall on Saturday, so Kurt had made plans to meet up early with Mercedes and Tina in hopes of finding a few bargains. Finn, on the other hand, didn't do mornings in the weekend, so his plans for Saturday consisted of playing video games until mid-afternoon then meeting up with Puck and Sam to go bowling.

When they got home, Carole was making a pot-roast for dinner. Finn was so happy he actually fist-bumped Burt, who was surprised by the gesture but equally pleased. Neither of them said anything, but Kurt knew they were both sick of the balanced, low-sodium, low-fat meals he'd been making them eat. He would be more annoyed, but secretly he's come to love watching them bond. He'd nearly given himself a stitch on Monday trying not to laugh when he caught them exchanging mournful glances over his chicken salad. Finn had looked like he was asking, "What did I do to deserve this?" And Burt had just shaken his head in such a long-suffering manner that Kurt almost choked on his lettuce.

Their meal that night was a jovial affair. Burt and Finn ate with gusto, and this time it was Kurt and Carole trading indulgent smiles. He went to bed that night and thought of Karofsky as little as possible, which was still quite a lot but at least he managed not to touch himself this time.

Saturday passed quickly and profitably. Kurt picked up two new shirts, a richly-patterned silk scarf and a pair of jeans that fit his legs so snugly they were all but painted on. (Tina faked passing out when he did a twirl in them, while Mercedes clapped her hands and wolf-whistled with abandon.) He was starting to think everything would be fine, that maybe by next week everything would have blown over and things would be back to normal, crappy as that was.

It was Sunday evening when it all fell apart.

Finn had went to bed early with a gravelly voice and red eyes that indicated either the start of a cold or the end of a fight with Rachel, while Burt and Carole were visiting one of Carole's friends and were due back in an hour. Meanwhile, Kurt was downstairs searching a little frantically for Karofsky's video.

It started innocently enough. He'd finished his homework for the weekend, and had another hour to kill before he would need to start getting ready for bed. Alone with his thoughts, he found himself worrying about Monday, and how he was going to cope with another week of avoiding any contact with his least favorite hockey player. The more he worried about it the more he found himself thinking about the video, and the more he thought about the video the more aroused he became.

After fighting it for half an hour, he somehow concluded that the only way he'd be able to face the week ahead was to get it all out of his system, which for some reason he had decided meant watching the video again. And that was how he found himself wading through pages of search results, looking desperately for anything remotely resembling Karofsky's video.

Of course, there was nothing in his browser history, and for some reason he hadn't thought to bookmark the page. Who'd have thought that private browsing could be such a pain in the ass?

Twenty minutes later he was wondering if Karofsky might have deleted his profile and was almost ready to give up when something caught his eye. He repeated the title, wondering if he was dreaming or it was just coincidence, but sure enough there was Karofsky, stood in front of the same black sofa from the last video.

The problem was, it wasn't Karofsky or his furnishings that grabbed Kurt's attention—it was the title.

"**for Fancy | uploaded 2 days ago"  
><strong>

* * *

><p><em>So this was fun. I got to introduce Alex, who's been waiting in the wings for the last three chapters, and I managed to delay including the video itself until the next chapter, which gives me time to agonise over whether I'm being too graphic. I also decided to give US spellings a try—it's brain-bending, but hopefully it will dispel some of the (probably imaginary) tension I've felt in previous chapters.<em>

_Next chapter is in the works and the video scene itself is already done, but there might be a bit of a wait before it's published. The reason being, a lot of very important things are happening next week, and I don't know how much time I'll have to write. Even if I get something up before things get frantic, there's going to be a big drop in how quickly I can publish updates._

_But don't think I'm stopping for a minute! Every review and story alert and favourite story/author (really? Favourite _author_? Wow!) I get makes me tingle with pure happiness, so although things will slow down, I'm not going to leave you hanging for weeks and weeks—even if it means the next few chapters are a bit shorter than I'd like. Special thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far—they make it all worthwhile!_


	5. The charms of a Karofsky—part 1

_Warning: explicit content ahead. Also, a minor is basically making under-age porn—of himself, but still illegal._

_So I know some of you are looking forward to this, and some of you probably aren't. As a compromise, I've published this chapter in two parts, and they're both going up now. All the really explicit stuff is in the first part; the second chapter is reasonably clean, and you'll be able to figure out what you missed. That way, if you want to, you can just skim this or even just skip it._

_Meanwhile, for the rest of you…_

* * *

><p><em>It's show time.<em>

Dave liked the sound of that, maybe he should adopt it as a new catchphrase. It made him feel psyched, like he was on a TV show or something and was about to do a take. Well… More like a porno, but same thing.

The idea started with his realization a couple of nights ago: the best way to get Kurt Hummel to notice him would be through the medium of performance art. He couldn't sing or dance, but he had his body and sure as Hell he was going to perform.

He grinned at the camera, then consciously tried to tone it down in case he looked too scary baring all his teeth.

"Hey there! So, it's been a while since I made my first video, but something kinda special happened in the last couple of days and I guess you could say it inspired me.

"There's this guy, name's Fancy… Well, that's not really his name, it's only really me who calls him that… See, I've liked him for a while, but he never really seemed to notice me except when, uh, let's just say I was a bit of an idiot around him and did some really stupid stuff, so he probably didn't like me much. Anyway, I found out a couple of days ago that he's a fan of my first video, so I thought I'd do something specially for him."

Dave stuck an arm straight towards the camera, winked and gave it a thumbs-up. "Fancy, this is for you."

He walked backwards until he could feel the couch behind him so that the camera could see as much as possible. He was wearing a white-and-blue plaid shirt, buttoned most of the way up over a brown tee. Slowly, making what he hoped was a sexy face, he unbuttoned the shirt. Instead of shrugging it off immediately, he licked his lips and made a little show of rubbing his hands over himself.

After a few seconds he shrugged the shirt off and tossed it on the couch, starting on the t-shirt underneath. He ran his hands slowly down to his waist, gripping the hem and raising it slightly. Instead of tugging it right off this time he pulled it up slowly, gyrating his hips a little. (He suspected he looked goofy, but this was important; he had to give it his best shot, and at least Kurt would appreciate the effort.)

Shortly, the t-shirt joined his shirt on the bed, and Dave stood bare-chested in front of the camera. He settled his right hand over his stomach and stroked his chest with the other, feeling the hair and muscle underneath. Sometimes he wondered if Kurt might just be right about him being a Neanderthal. He certainly looked like one with his big, clumsy fingers and freakishly thick chest hair. None of the other guys were as hairy as him; they joked about it, that he was a werewolf or part-bear. He remembered the embarrassment of growing pubes when he was ten, and how he'd thought of shaving them off until Dad caught him with Mom's Ladyshave and gave him the "You're Becoming a Man" talk.

His fingers glanced over one of his nipples, making him catch his breath. He stroked it more heavily, feeling the aureola bump up. Using his thumb and forefinger, he pinched it slightly, gasping at the little jolt of pleasure it brought. He tweaked it a few more times, letting the pleasure show on his face, and when he removed his fingers a hard, flushed peak stood out against his chest. He did the same with the other nipple, closing his eyes a little at how good it felt. Finally, once both nipples were tingling, he tucked his thumbs into the sides of his jeans, smiled up at the camera and spoke.

"So, I've got a little surprise for you. You know how you were checking out my ass earlier today? Yeah, I saw you. Don't worry, I'm not mad, I like it when you look. In fact," he continued, his voice going husky, "I'm gonna let you check it out some more."

His lips twisted into a devilish smirk and he turned around slowly, wiggling his butt very slightly. Once he had his back to the camera, he reached back to knead his buttocks, tracing the shape of his glutes through the faded blue fabric.

"Mmm, bet you wanna see this, don't you? You wanna see some more of my ass? Yeah…"

He undid the top button of his jeans and unzipped them slowly, hoping the tiny mic would pick up on the sound, then hooked his thumbs into the belt loops and tugged to reveal his next surprise.

* * *

><p>"<em>Oh my God,"<em> Kurt growled aloud, his eyes glued to the screen. _Is Karofsky wearing a _jockstrap_?_

Below the level of the desk, Kurt's hand redoubled its efforts.

* * *

><p>The jeans fell down the rest of the way, exposing firm, pale buttocks framed by the bands of fabric around Dave's waist and thighs.<p>

He was worried about whether Kurt would like this, but he thought it was worth a shot.

Dave knew that he was pretty hairy back there, although it wasn't nearly as bad as on his chest or stomach._ Does it look fat?_ he wondered for what must have been the fiftieth time today. His ass wasn't flabby or anything, but he wouldn't say it was anything to write home about. Dave worked out a lot and played sports, and the result was what he hoped was a reasonably muscular butt. He was more defined than most guys his size—his gluteus maximus stood out, at least.

Still, he was taking a big risk with this, and he was about to do something Kurt might not even like.

Stroking his hips up and down, he muttered "Bet you like that, don'tcha? You like seeing me with my ass hanging out like that? Bet you'd like to squeeze it like this—" and he grabbed at his flesh, pulling the cheeks apart to reveal more curly brown hair and the pucker of his asshole.

"What else do you want, Fancy? You want to touch it? Maybe…" He felt dizzy from the nerves, but he had to say it; the show must go on. "Maybe you want to see me put something in there?"

It was now or never. Fumbling with a bottle of baby oil he'd stowed on the couch, he squirted some onto his hands and rubbed them together, covering his fingers. He took another generous handful and brought it behind him, bending over to rub it into his butt. Most of it spilled down his legs, but he got enough on him that he hoped what he was going to do next wouldn't hurt too much.

Perching his knees on the edge of the cushion, he knelt on the couch, settling himself against the back with his elbows. Once he was reasonably steady, he leaned forwards, pushing his ass out and back, and started teasing the hole with his forefinger. He'd tried this a couple of times and even practiced a little last night, but it he was nervous so he took it slow.

He stroked lazy circles around his hole with his fingertips, just enjoying the feeling for a bit and letting himself relax. Wiggling the tip of his finger inside, he gave himself a few seconds to adjust before slowly pushing it in up to the knuckle. He was breathing heavily already, and he could feel a bead of sweat trickling down his brow—from anxiety more than exertion. He waited until his breathing was steady and his ass felt a bit looser before slowly moving the finger in and out, willing himself not to tighten up.

As he got more into it, he started moving his finger faster, slipping his other hand around his cock and trying to keep time. He was leaning forward over the back of the couch now, bracing himself with a shoulder and hoping he didn't lose balance or topple. Gaining confidence, he slowed down to work in a second finger. It hurt a little, but he'd done it earlier so he knew he could do it again; he just had to relax and breathe, and it would come to him.

As the knuckles cleared the entrance a surge of pure ecstasy shook him, making him moan loudly. He began reciprocating very gently, becoming more comfortable with the sensation.

Soon he was moving faster, flexing his fingers slightly as he pumped them in and out with increasing ease. As the tips brushed against his prostate, the last of his nerves fled and he lost himself to the sensation, throaty groans escaping with every breath. His body felt like an engine, every movement attuned and purposeful as he stoked the fire growing in his belly. His hand, his fingers, his breath, his heart—Dave's entire body pulsing in sympathy with the rhythm he was pounding out with sweet abandon.

When he'd planned this earlier, he had thought about trying for three fingers. He knew he wouldn't get that far now, but he didn't care, he was too far gone; he could feel the sweet release building, ready to burst forth, _oh God…_

A guttural cry escaped his lips, and he barely remembered to keep his voice down so that Alex wouldn't hear. Warm come poured out over his fist, and he turned around quickly so that it would run over his belly before it spilled onto the couch. He fell back into the seat panting heavily. He couldn't remember ever coming that hard; he was pretty sure he hadn't caught it all and was sitting on his own spunk right now. It didn't matter, he was too high to care.

Like he did in the first video, he licked his fingers, but this time he licked all of them—one by one, relishing the taste. It tasted sweeter this time. He wondered if Kurt had ever done that to himself, if the boy knew what come tasted like. He wondered if Kurt's tasted the same as his.

Before he stopped recording, he looked straight at the camera to ask the question that all of his hopes were resting on:

"So did you like that, Fancy?"


	6. The charms of a Karofsky—part 2

After an orgasm, Kurt often experienced a sudden sense of clarity. It was like the opposite of being drunk: clouds of raging hormones dissipated and broke apart, casting his thoughts into bright relief. It was in one of these moments that he found himself in now, and he didn't like what he was seeing.

He had exploded like a rocket watching Karofsky's little stunt with his fingers. And that jockstrap… Kurt was embarrassed and just a little disbelieving about how freaking hot he'd found it. After that video, he doubted there was an inch of Dave he hadn't seen…

But there was no time for that now. More sobering thoughts demanded to be heard.

One: Karofsky was responsible for bullying him into a depression, and in general was Not a Nice Guy. Getting off to him was definitely not healthy and probably symptomatic of borderline Stockholm syndrome.

Two: if Karofsky had dedicated a video to him, he must be counting on Kurt seeing it and would expect some sort of acknowledgment soon. They had three periods of French together each week, spread out over Monday, Wednesday and Friday, so he couldn't exactly avoid seeing him. Kurt was an expert at not being alone with Karofsky unless absolutely necessary, and could rely on the cooperation of Glee Club to this end, but that would only delay the inevitable confrontation.

Three: it was becoming painfully clear that Karofsky, in some twisted way, actually _liked_ him. Somehow he had managed to put off this recognition right up until the last line of the video, when a sweat-and-come-covered Karofsky asked if Kurt had enjoyed watching him stick fingers up his ass. (Had he? Oh God, he had…)

Oh, and four: had he forgotten that this was totally illegal and Karofsky—heck, maybe both of them—could go to juvvie? This was Lima, Ohio for goodness' sake! In all likelihood, the only reason Karofsky hadn't been expelled was because he was bullying a gay student and half the PTA secretly thought he deserved it.

He was being completely irresponsible. He did _not_ like Karofsky, the boy was a brute. Maybe he felt a little sorry for him but he wasn't just going to magically forgive him because he'd given him a boner. (Or two, or… OK, a lot of boners.) It's not like Karofsky had said sorry for anything, and Kurt hadn't been lying when he said that fat, sweaty jocks weren't his type. Yeah, so maybe Karofsky was more built than he thought—but he wasn't exactly slim, and Kurt usually preferred his boys thinner and more defined.

Or so he hoped.

Groaning, he admitted that he couldn't deal with all this tonight, which meant that he wouldn't be ready to deal with it on Monday either. He wasn't sure if Karofsky would say anything, but if he did he was going to have to stall him. He could say he hadn't seen it yet, not let on that he'd even thought about the first video. Kurt could think on his feet, but tonight his head was spinning, there was too much to deal with and once again he was feeling way too close to Karofsky—and the boy wasn't even in the same room as him.

_If God did exist,_ Kurt thought sardonically,_ He could give Santana lessons on being an all-out bitch._

* * *

><p>Dave barely had time to mop up his mess with a sock before there was a knock on his door.<p>

"Dave, are you OK? I thought I heard something—"

"I'm fine Alex! Don't come in!" Dave hollered through the door, panicked and embarrassed.

"Oh. _Oh._" Alex's voice raised in pitch, evidently realizing what he'd almost walked in on. Dave winced and thought that would be the end of it, but apparently his brother had other ideas.

"So I'm guessing she said yes?"

Dave had to think for a second before working that out. He smiled. "She said she's considering it, but I think she'll say yes."

"Told you so, bro'! No way she could resist the charms of a Karofsky."

"Great, thanks, but can we talk about this _some other time?_"

Alex laughed, and Dave heard his footsteps retreating down the hallway.

He grinned a little in spite of the awkwardness of the situation. Alex was cool like that, he might tease his younger brother a bit but he knew when to stop pushing and respect his privacy.

When Dave had made the first video, it wasn't like he'd intended for Kurt to ever see it. In fact, he was pretty sure at the time that _anyone_ he knew seeing it would be the most awful thing that could possibly happen. But it was Kurt's fault he made it; he couldn't deny it at the time and he hadn't forgotten now.

It wasn't like he was madly in love with Kurt. It was just… Kurt was gay. Like, really damn gay. It flipped Dave off how gay he was, the way he dressed like a model and looked like he might break into a skip at any moment. (In fact, more than once Dave actually _had_ caught Kurt skipping, and what the _heck_ were you meant to make of that?) Kurt was gay, and worse still he seemed almost proud of it.

Meanwhile, Dave was starting to realize that he was thinking way too much about how Finn Hudson was kinda hot, and that he really wasn't interested in making out with a cheerleader—even though he knew that's what he was meant to do, it was how things _worked_ if you were a jock. Or that the new kid with the blond hair had a body that practically _begged_ to be stared at…

It scared him and he hated it; he even hated himself for having those faggy thoughts. So how on earth could Kurt just be fine with being a homo? Where did Kurt get off making goo-goo eyes at Hudson, or discussing which guys were cutest with his scary girlfriend, or wiggling his hips to Beyoncé when he was meant to be kicking a goddamn field goal?

How could he love what Dave hated so much about himself?

After nearly being suspended and only escaping by the skin of his teeth, Dave could admit that he had been a little obsessed by "that Hummel boy," as Dad called him. His parents had been appalled by what they knew, and they didn't know the half of it. Mom had taken it the worst; she couldn't believe that her boy had grown up to be a bully, or that some poor sweet kid (God, it was just like Mom to remember the ten-year-old wearing a bow-tie when she got her tires changed, like, six years ago) was scared to walk to class alone because of _her son_.

Naturally they had grounded him "until further notice," and that meant a lot of time thinking alone in his room. That's what his parents had been hoping for, after all, although they certainly hadn't intended his thoughts to take the particular direction they did.

Dave was good at masking pain with anger, but that didn't make it stop hurting.

_Chubby boys who sweat too much. An extraordinarily ordinary boy._ Kurt's words stung, probably more than they'd meant to. Dave was taking psychology that year, despite it being a chick subject, because he thought it might help him to understand himself. Unfortunately it turned out to be mostly boring stuff with big fancy words and lots of reading assignments, but he knew enough to guess that a psychoanalyst would have said he had a complex.

Thanks to Kurt, he didn't like his body any more. He felt big and ugly. And _ordinary_.

Not the sort of person that someone _extraordinary_ like Kurt would ever be interested in.

He watched a lot of porn in his room, because God knows he didn't have many other social activities to partake of now. And one night, watching all those boys jerking off and reading the comments they were getting—people saying they looked awesome, or sexy, or cute, or that they wanted to do things to them that were probably illegal in twenty states—set an irresistible train of thought running through his head, starting with: _What would they say about me?_

The question excited and terrified him. Who would want to watch a big, ugly Neanderthal like Dave Karofsky get naked? Sure, maybe some girls had tried to pique his interest, but they were mostly too drunk, slutty or stupid to know better. But would a guy ever want him? Were there boys out there who would look at him and think, "man, I want a piece of that…?"

It was a terrible idea. No way would he ever do it. Might as well forget about it.

Less than a week later he was uploading a video of himself jerking off on his couch. No one would ever know; it's not like anyone except for Kurt Hummel was gay at McKinley, and Hummel was probably too stuck-up to ever watch porn. He hadn't said who he was or anything, just that he was a hockey player. He certainly wouldn't mention that he was only sixteen and still in high-school; people mistook him for someone older so often that he'd become designated beer-run shopper for the hockey team.

How long Dave hesitated before publishing the video, he wasn't sure; but from the moment he did he was on edge, refreshing the page over and over to see if anyone had left a comment.

The first comment nearly floored him.

"**woah you are one SEXY dude! and dont you dare lose weight i like my men BIG..."**

He could have reached out and kissed whoever wrote that. Someone liked him, fat and all? A guy who liked guys, someone like Kurt, actually_ liked _him the way he was?

He spent most of the next week obsessing over the seven people who commented on his video, stalking their profiles and trying to learn as much as he could about them. Were they cute? Where did they live? And what was their "type"?

He couldn't express in words how comforting it felt to know that yes, there were men who digged guys like him. It was a revelation to him, and a welcome one. For the first time in months, Dave felt appreciated, and maybe even a bit sexy. So what if Hummel didn't like him? He had _fans_. There were people in the world who liked seeing him naked and got turned on by it.

So yeah, screw Hummel. Dave didn't need his approval.

Or so he'd thought until a few days ago, when Kurt said that he liked seeing Dave get naked too.

And now it was Friday afternoon and he was uploading his second video, a video dedicated to Kurt, giving him the whole weekend to watch it.

Dave could not _wait _to see Kurt on Monday.

* * *

><p><em>Sorry this took a while, I hope it was worth the wait! Incidentally, that's the most graphic scene I've ever tried to write, and I'm honestly not sure how well it worked. If you didn't skip it, I'd really appreciate some feedback on what I could have done better!<em>

_Things are going to get slower and angstier (is that a word?) next chapter._


	7. Liar, liar

_Sorry for the _long_ wait, you would not believe the things that have happened in my life. I mean that almost literally. I've actually had this chapter written for a while now, I just didn't feel satisfied enough to post it. It's a bit fillerific, which is to say that not much happens in it. Fortunately the next two are way more fun and not too far off being finished, so hopefully you can endure until then!_

_I really want to thank all of the people who have left reviews so far, especially if I haven't PMed you to say so yet. wasn't letting me reply through the review alert emails shortly after posting the last chapter, and a few days later I wasn't getting alert emails for anything whatsoever. Nevertheless, I want you all to know that your reviews and messages mean so much to me, and letting each of you know that personally is the very least I can do—so please accept my honest apologies and sincere appreciation if I haven't done so yet._

* * *

><p>His stepbrother had been acting off all morning, but it wasn't until he actually skipped a red light <em>recklessly endangering our lives but never mind<em> that Finn resolved to ask the touchy sopranist for an explanation.

"Kurt, what is wrong with you today? Did you even sleep last night?"

"I think I might be coming down with something," Kurt grumbled reluctantly, eyes fixed on the road.

Finn's brows furrowed with concern. It was hard to tell, but Kurt did look a little paler than usual this morning. He worried a lot about Kurt's health. And why shouldn't he? His stepbrother put up with a lot of crap at school—heck, Finn had been _responsible_ for some of that crap—and it had taken Burt seeing it personally to put a stop to it. After being rightly chewed-out for not looking after his brother, Finn was determined that next time Kurt had a problem, he would know about it and be there to fix it.

Besides, Kurt worked way too hard for a kid his age. Finn couldn't remember ever having to make dinner or do the laundry while he lived with Mom, but Kurt would cook almost every night if no one stopped him and knew far more than any teenager should about the many uses for club soda.

So yes, Finn was going to look out for Kurt whether he wanted him to or not.

Adopting a suitably brotherly tone, Finn pressed some more. "Is it, like, a fever or something? Are you sure you shouldn't be at home?"

"Finn, I'll be fine…"

"No, seriously, if you're sick you shouldn't push yourself. Mom says you work too hard anyway, and I think she's right. You need to give yourself a break, you'll get better faster."

Kurt gave him a sideways frown. "Finn, I promise that if things get really bad I'll just go see the school nurse and you can drive us home when school lets out. And what do you mean, Carole says I work too hard?"

"Well, you and Mom are always arguing over who gets to do the laundry and stuff, and you're always cooking all that healthy cra… Um, food—" _Please don't have heard that…_

Ignoring his silent prayer, Kurt cut him off. "_Crap?_ You think my cooking is c_rap?_"

Finn winced and meant it. He could see Kurt already powering up for Queen Bitch Mode.

Which meant, essentially, oh dear God.

Contrary to popular opinion, Kurt wasn't really prone to tantrums, and half the time when he started bitching it was almost funny. When he did throw a fit, though… Well, he reminded Finn of that little Chinese guy who stood in front of those tanks that one time.

Finn knew it was already too late, but he had to forestall this if at all possible. "That's not what I meant—"

"It's _exactly_ what you meant! If you and Dad had your own way, you'd eat pizza and bacon seven days a week! You know that Dad needs to look after his heart, right? And as for _you…_"

_Kurt is a very careful driver,_ Finn reminded himself when a thin finger stabbed his bicep with surprising force. _Kurt would never let his car get so much as a scratch on it just because he's so angry he's forgotten about personal safety and oh God he's not looking at the road any more and he already skipped a light…_

Kurt continued, heedless of Finn's inner monologue or concern for their safety. "You're meant to be an athlete! If Carole and I let you fend for yourself, you'd be as wide as you are tall in a month! Heaven help you when you go to college, you'll probably have to hire a forklift to carry you into classes…"

As Kurt's tirade descended into nonsense, a realization took shape.

Finn knew he probably wasn't the brightest bulb in the box, but he could be insightful at times and he was getting pretty good at knowing when Kurt was deflecting.

For example: right now, Finn was mostly sure that Kurt had been lying about having a fever.

He waited a few seconds for Kurt to lose momentum before interrupting. "Is something up with you and prep guy or something?"

Kurt blinked, surprised, before remembering to glare. "His name is Blaine, and no, he hasn't done anything. Stop trying to change the subject—"

"Dude, I'm not the one trying to change the subject here. I'm pretty sure something's up and you're not telling me. I know I'm not going to win any prizes for best brother of the year, but I can tell when something's bothering you and I know it's not just that I'm sick of polenta or whatever the heck it's called."

Kurt opened his mouth to contradict him or maybe tell him off, but nothing came out. He closed it again and fixed his eyes on the road ahead (Finn sighed very quietly at that), trying not to look at his brother.

Taking this as encouragement, Finn pressed some more. "Kurt, I don't know what's up, and maybe it's… Well, like, gay stuff that you don't think I can deal with. But I promise I'm here to listen to you if you want to talk, OK? I know what it's like having relationship trouble, and maybe I'm not so great at dealing with it either, but at least you'll have someone to talk to. Not that Mercedes isn't great," he continued, anticipating the obvious objection, "but sometimes it's good to have a guy's perspective, right?"

For the briefest moment, Finn was sure he saw his brother's impeccable facade crack.

* * *

><p>Kurt knew from the off that it was a bad idea to play the "sick" card with Finn. It wasn't like he had been completely lying (if you counted a really bad case of crazy-stalker-bully porn) but he wasn't about to tell Finn that the reason he hadn't slept was because he was worried that today a 200 pound jock was going to ask him if he had enjoyed watching him stick his fingers up his ass over the Internet.<p>

The problem was, ever since Dad had found out about the bullying, his stepbrother had apparently appointed himself Kurt's official guardian, which was in equal parts sweet and tiresome. Finn wasn't going to let go until he was suitably reassured that Kurt was genuinely going to be OK.

Still staring at the road, Kurt did his best not to betray the surge of warmth he felt for the tall boy sitting next to him. Finn was so… _Genuine_, not to mention unexpectedly (albeit inconveniently) perceptive at times. Maybe it would be good to talk to him about the situation. Heaven knows Finn had been putting up with Rachel's persistent advances for long enough, it wasn't like he had no experience with this sort of thing…

No, stop right there. Finn's situation was nothing like this. Sure, maybe Rachel's antics were crazy and overblown, but it wasn't like she was sending him naked pictures or anything. (Or at least, he hoped not, and there's a train of thought he's never getting on.) And it wasn't like she'd bullied Finn constantly for the best part of two years. Whatever Finn thought was going on, this was a whole different level from what he could deal with.

Still, it would be nice to have someone to talk to about things, even if not… this. He couldn't just blow off his brother's sincere attempt to build a bridge between them, either.

He let a small, guarded smile show before speaking.

"Thank you, Finn. I don't want to talk about it just now, but I'll keep the offer to talk in mind." As an afterthought, he added, "The same goes for you too; if you need someone to talk to, I'd like to be there for you."

Finn rewarded him with a grin. "Sure thing, Kurt."

They were only a couple of minutes from the school, but Kurt turned the radio on and tuned it to a station that Finn liked. They spent the rest of the journey singing together, and when they pulled into a space and Kurt turned off the engine, they smiled at each other before getting out, savoring the brief spell of brotherly bonding.

Before they parted ways, Finn patted Kurt on the back. "So, are you making something healthy for dinner tonight?"

The last traces of Kurt's earlier irritation faded; he could never resist that hopeful note in his brother's voice. "Well, we were going to have quinoa salad, but I was thinking that maybe we could pick up some steaks on the way home instead. I know Beastie has you doing extra practice with the championship games coming up, so I figured you could do with some decent nourishment now and then…"

Finn's face lit up like last year's Christmas tree, and he surprised Kurt by grabbing him and squeezing his shoulders. "Kurt… You. Are. _Awesome._"

Embarrassed and touched, Kurt shrugged off Finn's hands and laughed. "Just remember, tomorrow it's quinoa."

In spite of the culinary threat, Finn seemed happy enough when they parted ways for their respective lockers. Kurt occupied himself by thinking about what he was going to cook tomorrow. He'd originally planned a salad with herbs and pomegranate, but they had some chicken breasts in the 'fridge, and he was sure there was some Cajun spice mix left in the cupboard. There was a recipe for Cajun chicken quinoa that he hadn't tried yet, and maybe it would give him a chance to convert Finn and his Dad to the fluffy superfood.

He grabbed his books for the next couple of classes, frowning as he picked up his French notes and textbook. He had French just before break, and judging by the last two classes it wouldn't be pretty.

* * *

><p>He could feel Karofsky's eyes on him as soon as he came through the door. Somewhat prepared, he manged to avoid eye-contact almost completely, although as he walked to his desk his gaze skittered across the jock's face long enough to make out a painfully hopeful expression.<p>

Kurt did his level best to ignore the immanent threat to his survival for the next fifty minutes. Finally, class let up and he started packing. He heard someone drop their bag on the desk behind him and he knew without looking that it was Karofsky. Still, he almost jumped out of his skin when he felt a large body brushing up against him.

"Can we talk?"

Kurt risked a sideways glance. Karofsky was facing the desk behind him, stuffing a book into his bag. His head was inclined towards him, though, and Kurt had to remind himself that even serial killers were probably capable of puppy-dog eyes.

"About what? I was going to catch Mercedes for a soda, so…"

"It'll only take a couple of minutes. Please?" A note of pleading entered Dave's voice, reminding Kurt so much of Finn that he had to shove down his pity and remind himself of last night's resolution.

Sighing, he zipped up his messenger bag, muttering, "Fine. Just make it quick."

Kurt heard Karofsky let go of a breath he must have been holding. The jock shrugged his bag back over his shoulder, turning towards Kurt, and suddenly Kurt felt an arm reach around his back to press a hand against his side, encouraging him to move. He grabbed his bag and clutched it to his chest as he was walked briskly towards the door. When they got into the corridor Karofsky followed behind without removing his hand, returning to his side and steering him gently through the crowd of students.

At first he wondered if Karofsky was going insane. Wasn't he scared that people would see? He could feel Karofsky's thick fingers curled—very visibly, he imagined—around his abdomen. His black sweater was thin enough that he felt the warmth from the palm pressed to his waist. Yet, looking around, no one met his eyes or more than glanced at the two of them before looking away. Why did no one notice that the most homophobic jock in McKinley had his arm all-but-wrapped around the resident queer? For that matter, why was Karofsky suddenly so comfortable touching him in public?

The answer came to him soon, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth: they probably just supposed he was being bullied again. Between being shoved, dumpster-tossed and otherwise manhandled on a regular basis, it was hardly unusual to see Kurt in Karofsky's clutches. If they gave it a second thought, it was probably to thank whatever deity they believed in that it wasn't them.

And if it had been a while since any of them had seen Kurt being seriously imperiled, well, the school fag was probably due some violence by now, he mused bitterly.

Kurt's guts clenched when he noticed that their walk had led them to the locker room. Instead of letting go, Karofsky pulled Kurt even closer so he could push the door open without letting go. The door swung shut behind them and Karofsky led him behind a row of lockers, presumably so they couldn't be seen if someone walked in unexpectedly.

Karofsky was fully against his side now, his arm firm against Kurt's back so that they were basically in a sideways hug now. Kurt wasn't accustomed to other boys touching him, and he found himself strangely reluctant to move away from the soft warmth pressing against him. Still, he didn't want to give the wrong impression, so he stepped away and looked up expectantly.

Karofsky's looked at his fingers for a few seconds, as if mourning the loss of contact. Finally, his arm dropped slowly to his side. He took a deep breath, and Kurt wondered if he had prepared a speech or something.

"Did you watch it?" he blurted out.

OK, maybe not a speech, though he had obviously been waiting all morning to ask. And God, he reminded Kurt so much like Finn when he said that, damn his traitorous brain…

Kurt schooled himself to be calm before responding, and consciously assumed the sort of firm, measured tone he might employ for speaking to an upset five-year-old. Or Finn.

"Watch what? The video?"

"Yeah, I… yeah, the video."

"Why would I?" Kurt asked levelly.

"Huh?" Karofsky looked off-balance. He hadn't expected that answer. "Um… Right. I just sort of thought, you know, you might have checked up over the weekend?"

"And I ask again, why would I? I've already seen the video, so why would I want to see it again?"

Karofsky looked worried now. "You said you liked it."

"Sure, I liked it at the time. But that was when I was…" Kurt grimaced before continuing. "Well, I was looking for porn on the Internet, do I really need to spell it out? I'd probably have enjoyed watching rutting antelopes at that point."

Karofsky didn't answer. His lips were compressed dangerously; Kurt recognized this as a sign that the boy was either angry or on his way to getting angry, and decided to wrap things up before it erupted.

"Look, I only watched it because I was curious. It's not like I've even thought about it again all weekend." _Liar._ "I mean… I don't even remember what you're called there," _liar,_ "and I'm not going to go looking for you," _liar liar, pants on fire, _"so the best thing for us to do is just forget about it."

He crossed his fingers and waited for Karofsky's reaction.

For his part, Karofsky looked stricken. His mouth was still pressed shut, but his eyes were vocal, speaking plainly of regret. Finally, he turned and slipped his backpack off his shoulders and onto a bench.

"Wait there," he said, rooting around for something.

Kurt waited, and presently Karofsky pulled out a pen and a notebook. He scribbled something on the paper, ripped half a leaf off and folded it, passing it to Kurt.

Unfolding it, Kurt saw "hockeyjock2010" inscribed in small, round letters. _Karofsky's handle._ He had been lying when he said he didn't remember it. He'd been lying about a few things today.

"That's my username. Check it out."

"But why would I—"

"Just do it, OK? Please?"

Realizing that he wasn't getting out of this, he resigned himself to the fact that at least now he had a couple more days to collect his thoughts. He nodded, hoping that was the end of it, but Karofsky wasn't finished.

"Will you check it out tonight?"

_No way,_ thought Kurt. _I need more time. _"I'm meeting Rachel tonight," he fabricated easily. "We're doing our toenails, it'll be late when I get back."

"Tomorrow night?"

"I'm…" _I'm still thinking of an excuse, just give me a second…_

"Check it out tomorrow and we'll talk about it on Wednesday after French." Karofsky decided with an air of finality.

Desperate, Kurt gave it a shot anyway. "Wait, please, just… What do you want to talk about? I've already seen it, I don't want to see it again—"

"Yes you do. I mean, maybe you don't, but…" Karofsky's face twisted, struggling with indecision. "It's not the same video, OK?" he conceded at last. "There's another one, I made it for you. I just want you to see it. If you don't like it, I promise I'll leave you alone and never mention it to you again. Deal?"

Kurt couldn't look at Karofsky any more, not when he was making a needy expression that reminded him of Finn when he wanted something badly. Instead, he focused on the clammy hand being held out to him. Gulping down his fear, he reached forward and took it.

Big fingers closed around his own. "Deal," he mumbled.

Karofsky sighed with relief, squeezing Kurt's hand a little tighter. "Thanks Kurt. I hope… I hope you like it." He let go and frowned. "Um, didn't you say you were meeting Mercedes or something?"

_Aw shoot! _He hadn't made that part up. Mercedes was going to be pissed. "Yeah, I should be going. I guess I'll see you…"

He backed off a few steps before turning around so that Karofsky couldn't surprise him from behind, which he seemed to be making a habit of doing lately. When he got into the corridor, he whipped out his phone and grimaced to find a missed call and two texts from Mercedes, and set about composing a quick apology.

A muffled crash came from the locker room behind him, and he picked up the pace a little.

Wednesday. He had just bought himself two more days until he was totally screwed.

* * *

><p>Dave managed to wait until a few seconds after he heard the door close before he broke down.<p>

Kurt hadn't seen it… He hadn't even thought about him all weekend! He'd pinned all his hopes on Kurt seeing that video, enjoying it, hopefully jacking off to it, and he hadn't even _thought_ about the first one he'd made.

_FUCK!_ He smashed a fist against the row of lockers, ignoring the throbbing pain it brought to his knuckles.

He knew it was crazy to imagine that Kurt would suddenly care squat about him or actually look forward to seeing his naked body again, but he had. He totally had. Last night, he went to sleep fantasizing about what might happen today, and in his sleepy mind's eye it all went so differently.

"_So… Did you do anything over the weekend?" Dave asked, playing it cool._

_Kurt smiled; he knew exactly what Dave wanted to hear. "You mean the video you made for me?"_

"_Did you like it?"_

_Dave hardly dared to breathe when the other boy stepped closer, his light footsteps echoing in the locker room until he was standing perhaps a foot away from Dave._

"_No, I didn't like it," Kurt whispered, shakily._

_Trying to conceal his disappointment, Dave nodded and prepared to say that it was no big deal, he would try harder next time…_

"_I _loved_ it," breathed Kurt, leaning forwards and tilting his head up very slightly so that Dave was looking right into those gorgeous eyes—not afraid like they usual were, but burning with a very different emotion._

_Dave was almost shaking with emotion, but he controlled himself. Barely. "Tell me, Kurt. Tell me what you liked best about it."_

_And Kurt laughed, gently, leaning in further. There noses brushed together, sending a shiver of electricity down Dave's spine._

"_OK, I'll tell you. But first, you need to let me show you my appreciation." His lips were on Dave's almost as soon as he finished, soft and inviting, begging Dave to take them, suck on them, pull them into his mouth and taste them, and again he wondered what flavor lip balm Kurt wore, because he tasted amazing._

_They pulled apart, and Kurt's body just _melted _against his own, fitting him perfectly, his soft lips showering gentle kisses on Dave's face and neck._

_In between the kisses, Kurt whispered against his skin:_

"_I think you're so handsome."_

"_You're not fat at all."_

"_I was lying, you're totally my type."_

"_I can't wait to see your body again."_

"_You're perfect, Dave. Just the way you are."_

Dave wiped away his tears and sat quietly, hugging himself for the rest of break.


	8. You have me

Dave slammed every door on the way from his car to his room, threw himself onto his bed and buried his head in his hands.

He hadn't been able to concentrate all day, and even got called out in calculus when his teacher found him just doodling after doing five of the dozen practice questions on the chain rule. The worst thing was he knew he deserved it. His grades had been slipping these past few months, and he couldn't afford it. He had to stand out on his college and scholarship applications; they were his only shot at getting out of this place, and AP courses were a big part of that.

It didn't help that Alex hadn't done too well at high school and now Mom and Dad were piling the pressure on him to do better. It seemed like three times a week they had a talk about how his grades were important for his future, he had to work harder and live up to his potential, and all the other boring-as-crap stuff that parents said when they were worried about how their son was doing at school. Having a reversed expulsion on his record didn't help either.

Thoroughly despondent, he mentally charted out how he would probably spend the rest of the evening.

Someone would probably say something during dinner. Maybe Mom would start tonight. "Dave, your father and I are worried about you," she'd say.

Dad would back her up. "You do know that what you do now will have a big impact on where you end up in two years' time?" he'd ask, as if Dave didn't already know from the thousand other identical conversations they'd had.

Alex would watch solemnly and the nagging, sorry, _conversation_ would go on until Dave snapped and stormed off to his room with his plate while the three of them beamed disappointment at his retreating back. And later Alex might swing by his room, supposedly to see how Dave was but really because he wanted to lecture him too on how he wished _he'd_ worked harder, and if anything was up at school Dave knew he could talk to him, right?

And Dave would say yes, he knew, and Alex would nod and leave him be, and he would be left alone thinking there was no way he was ever going to tell his brother that he was far more interested in Sam's butt than any girl's boobs, and by the way he'd kissed the school fag and was making jerk-off videos for him, did that mean that maybe he was a bit gay?

That twisted his stomach. The thought of Alex finding out scared him more than his parents knowing. Not that he thought he would get beaten up or anything. Alex might have a few inches on him in… well, most directions, and maybe he'd been a bit wild at high school, but he was pretty calm nowadays and hadn't raised a finger to Dave since they were both kids.

No, Dave was scared Alex would be disappointed in him. Maybe even a little freaked out. That he'd stop talking to him, or hanging out with him when he had a day off, or feel uncomfortable giving him a squeeze on the shoulder or even a quick hug when Dave looked like he needed it. He'd rather just get beaten up than lose all that.

He groaned loudly, pressing his face against the pillow when it threatened to become a sob.

He was such a screw-up. Sure, he was on two sports teams, and one of them was on its way up; but his chances of academic success were vanishing before his eyes, he had a secret to carry around the size of Ohio and the highlight of his sad, non-existent sex life was letting people watch him get off so at least he knew that someone out there didn't think he was a complete troll.

That reminded him… Maybe he had some new comments on his videos. Those always cheered him up. He got up and turned on his computer, absently tapping out a beat on the desk while stuff loaded. When he finally logged on to his account he wasn't disappointed; four new comments had been posted since last night.

_"your butt is perfect, i want to bury my face in it!"_ one guy raved, warming his cheeks and his heart. Despite everything that had happened today, he felt a lot better knowing that someone_—someone gay, like Fancy!—_actually liked his ass and didn't think it was too hairy, or pale, or fat, or whatever. Maybe Kurt would like it too when he saw the video.

A tap came at the door, dragging him abruptly from his reverie.

"Dave, mind if I come in?" Alex's voice called from the other side.

Dave's breath caught in his throat and he had his monitor off in a flash. "Sure," he called once the screen went black.

Alex came in and thumped down on the bed, which groaned under his weight. His eyes flickered from Dave to the unlit screen, then the desk itself, under which his computer was still whirring away conspicuously. He seemed lost in thought for a second before he spoke up.

"How are you doing?" he asked. "You seemed a little worked up when you came in."

Dave did his best to ignore his sudden irrational fear that Alex knew exactly what he had just been doing. He just heard me slam a couple of doors, that's all. "I'm fine, just stuff at school," he offered.

Alex nodded. "Is it to do with that girl you asked out?" he asked.

Well, shoot. Dave forgot to consider that unlike his other friends, Alex actually gave a crap about him and would follow up on stuff he said, even if it was all baloney. _Time to get creative,_ he thought, mentally cracking his knuckles.

"I suppose," he said, shooting for noncommittal. "She asked if we could put our date back a couple of days, is all." That seemed pretty close to what actually went down, at least in terms of the imaginary world he was constructing for Alex's benefit, so he didn't feel too guilty. Besides, he was already lying to everyone else he knew, why not add his brother to the list?

OK, maybe he felt a little guilty, but this really wasn't the right time to start entertaining his conscience.

"That doesn't sound so bad," said Alex. "Sure, you have to wait, but it's not like she blew you off or something. Maybe she already has plans?"

"Yeah… It's just it sort-of throws you off, you know? Like, you start asking yourself what she's doing that's more important, or whether she's not really all that into you."

Alex made a dismissive noise. "Don't think like that. For one thing, at least she told you, and for another she still wants to see you, right?"

"Sure," Dave agreed. Kurt did agree to take a look at the video on Tuesday, and he wouldn't have done that if he thought Dave was a complete monster. Right?

Still… Thinking back, Kurt didn't seem all that keen to see it after all. On reflection, it had really been more like him just telling Kurt to watch the video than Kurt actually agreeing to. Dave frowned, and when Alex raised an eyebrow he decided to work that into the story so he at least had something halfway truthful to say.

"Actually, she didn't seem all that upset about it. I had to convince her to reschedule, in the end."

Alex looked thoughtful. "Hmm, I see. That's not so good. Still, maybe she's just playing hard-to-get? Not a good sign, but still…"

Dave thought back. Kurt mostly just seemed scared. Crazy scared, actually. Still, he did say he'd liked the first video, and he'd definitely caught him checking out his ass… Dave screwed up his face, his head was starting to hurt from keeping track of everything.

"I don't know, bro'. It's kinda hard to judge, she's not easy to read. You know how it is with girls."

His brother grinned knowingly, and Dave felt the tension in his chest unwind a little. "Yeah, I know. But you gotta try, Dave. If she's not all that into you, she's going to keep doing things like this until you end up breaking up. I know it's not something you want to think about right now, but you need to remember that this is just a first date, and you'll probably have many more first dates with even more amazing people."

Unsure how to respond, Dave stayed silent. Alex stood up from the bed and leaned over him, placing a hand on Dave's shoulder.

"I gotta get back to work," he said, "but I want you to know that I'm always here for you if you need me. And…" He hesitated for a second, eyes darting back to the computer. When he spoke again, his voice was disarmingly soft. "You know you can tell me anything, right? I promise not to judge or be mad."

Screw what he said about not feeling guilty. Dave could feel it swirling around inside him now, along with the crushing realization of how completely undeserving he was of such a great brother when every other word that came out of his mouth was bullshit. Not trusting himself to speak, he nodded, eyes downcast.

Alex stood over him for a few seconds, as though waiting for Dave to say something, but Dave kept his lips clamped shut. Sighing gently, Alex gave him a final squeeze before he headed for the door.

For the second time that day, Dave fought back tears. God, he really was becoming a total fag.

* * *

><p>Kurt knew he was out of his depth, and it was well past time to call in some assistance. Half way through fourth period, he pulled out his phone and texted Blaine.<p>

**"Please can we meet up? I really need to talk to someone!"**

The answer came during lunch.

**"Sure, no problem! Haven't seen you for a while, would be good to catch up. What do you need to talk about?"**

**"Can't say over the phone. Meet in the Lima Bean at five?"**

**"See you then! x"**

Kurt ignored the tiny flutter in his chest at that little "x". He also did his best to ignore his mental comparison of Karofsky's big, broad chest with Blaine's far thinner one, which he hadn't seen yet but would probably be softer and less hairy, less… Exciting. _Goddammit, stop thinking!_

He jumped when Rachel nudged him, and turned to find himself facing a severe glare. "Kurt, have you even been listening for the past five minutes?"

"No, I was looking out for the fashion police. I don't want them to think I'm an accomplice when they come to confiscate that sweater," he brushed her off, mouth moving almost on autopilot. Rachel's eyes went wide, and sensing a blow-up he summarily excused himself from the Glee table, throwing his half-eaten lunch in the trash. A few murmurs of confusion reached him over Rachel's indignation, which he ignored uncomfortably.

* * *

><p>Four hours later, Blaine found Kurt at their usual table nursing a non-fat mocha and staring into space. He silently took his place at the seat opposite, watching as Kurt's gaze refocused and his expression shifted into a welcoming smile.<p>

"Blaine, thanks so much for coming!" Noticing that Blaine already held a cup, he added apologetically, "I'd have got your coffee, but I wasn't sure what you normally get."

"It's nothing, really. How are you doing?" asked Blaine. His posture was open, his expression genuinely interested.

Kurt shrugged. "Fine for the most part. Went shopping over the weekend with Tina and Mercedes, got a couple of things I'm pretty sure Dad won't let me wear in public. In all, a relatively successful outing."

"Ha, can't wait to see you in them," said Blaine, grinning. Kurt felt himself blushing inwardly. "Anything else? You seemed pretty worked up about something earlier, and I'm guessing it's not about a trip to the mall…"

"You got me! Okay, there is something else. I'm… in a bit of a situation. Mind scooting a bit closer so I can talk more quietly?"

"Sure," said Blaine, pulling his chair in a little and leaning forwards while Kurt did the same. "What's up?"

"First, you have to promise this goes no further than you and me." Blaine rolled his eyes a little. "_Promise_," Kurt insisted.

"Kurt, I promise I won't blab your secrets to the whole of Lima," said Blaine. He looked a tad amused, but that would have to do.

"Right. So, as I was saying, I might have got myself into a pickle with Karofsky."

Blaine's eyes narrowed at the name. "Karofsky? Has he been bothering you again?"

"No, not at all," said Kurt, holding his hands up reassuringly. "Well, not in the way you might think. It's just… Blaine, have you ever been on YouTube?"

Blaine snorted. "Um… Kurt, I know that Dalton looks like something from the dark ages, but we do have the Internet in our dorms."

"Sorry, of course you've seen YouTube. Well, you know how people post videos of themselves there?"

Blaine nodded.

Kurt's voice went very quiet. "Well, you know how there are other sites where people post… more… um, _compromising_ videos of themselves?"

Blaine started nodding, then his mouth dropped open a little bit. "You… Did you…?"

"_No!_" cried Kurt, a little louder than he meant to. He looked to both sides before continuing. "No, not me, I haven't… I wouldn't… Not me, I'm talking about Karofsky…" Feeling flustered, Kurt looked away. Maybe this was a bad idea.

"Wait a second," Blaine requested, and Kurt closed his mouth obediently. "Are you saying that _Karofsky_ posted a video of himself on one of these sites? And you've seen it?"

Risking a glance, Kurt saw Blaine staring at him a little incredulously. Kurt couldn't blame him; if he hadn't seen it, he wouldn't believe it either. "Yes," he answered quietly.

"Are you sure it's him? I mean, maybe it's just someone who looks like him?"

"It's not just someone who looks like him. I– I spoke to him about it. He admitted it."

If Kurt thought Blaine looked disbelieving before, that was nothing to his expression now, his mouth hanging open as if he'd just been hit by a slushy facial. Presently he pulled himself together a little and continued. "You _spoke_ to him about it? I mean, you saw him… What was he doing?"

Kurt's cheeks were burning. He leaned further forwards, motioning for Blaine to do the same. He felt painfully aware of how obviously secretive they looked. Pitching his voice to be barely audible over the conversations around him, he choked out a single word. "Masturbating."

Blaine, to his credit, managed not to look any more shocked than he already did. He slowly took a sip of his coffee, as though hoping the drink would help things to make sense. Finally, he nodded a little. "Okay. So you saw a video of Karofsky… masturbating… on the Internet. And then you went and told him about it."

Instead of replying, Kurt just ducked his head a little more.

"How did you find the video?"

Kurt's eyes flicked up in a flash. "I didn't go out looking for him, if that's what you're asking!" he snapped, a little too defensively.

"Kurt, I'm not judging you. I just want to get the facts straight. Did he send you the link or something, or did you find it on your own?"

"I found it on my own, I guess. By accident." Glaring a little at Blaine's raised eyebrows, he added, "I'm sure you can guess how, unless you really expect me to believe you lead such a pure and unblemished life that you've never used the Internet for inspiration."

"Whoa, Kurt… Seriously, I'm _not judging_. Okay?" Blaine held his hands up placatingly. "I'm just trying to establish the series of events here before I jump to any conclusions."

_I'm being irrational,_ thought Kurt. _Blaine is here to help, of course he's going to ask questions. I need to calm down._ He looked off to the side and took a deep breath, then reached for his drink. He took a few slow sips, gradually nudging himself into a somewhat less fraught frame of mind.

Finally, feeling ready to talk again without risking emotional whiplash, he looked back up at Blaine.

"A few nights ago I was looking for something to… Get off to." Kurt noted appreciatively that Blaine didn't bat an eyelid at the admission. "I went to a place where people post videos of themselves, well, doing stuff, and while I was on there I stumbled across Karofsky's video."

Blaine nodded slowly, his face betraying nothing. "Okay. So what happened next?"

Kurt's mouth felt dry, and he took another sip of his coffee before continuing. "I, um, watched the video. I was just curious, though! It's not like I wanted to get off to him or anything."

Blaine raised an eyebrow.

Kurt sighed. "Fine, so maybe I did end up enjoying it just a little. But I didn't mean to when I started watching it. I mean, I started watching before I saw it was Karofsky, but once I realized…" He made a helpless expression, and Blaine took pity and made some vaguely encouraging noises.

"So, the next day, I was at school and I saw him in class. I didn't know what to do, but I kept looking at him, and he must have noticed because he called me on it when we got into the hallway. One thing led to another, and I ended up saying something angry about him making videos of himself."

"Wow, seriously?" Apparently there were limits to even Blaine's composure, though he caught himself quickly. "Sorry, ignore that. I'm just… Keep on going, Kurt."

"Right. So I told him, and he dragged me off to a classroom. He seemed scared, more than anything. He didn't even get angry. I left as soon as I could, but later that day he followed me to my car and asked me… Well, if I'd liked it. And I said I did. Like it."

Blaine pursed his lips and looked away for a second, but quickly looked back. "Go on," he encouraged, quietly. "What happened next?"

Ignoring the burning sensation in his cheeks, Kurt continued. "Well, I went home, that was all he wanted to know. But for the next few days he was weird. Just, off, I guess? If I didn't know better I'd have thought he was trying to flirt with me or something. Anyway, over the weekend I found out that he'd made another video, and it was obvious he'd made it for me. He…"

Kurt trailed off, looking around before continuing even more quietly. "He did stuff, really sexy stuff. And on Monday he pulled me aside into the locker room at break to ask what I thought of it. I got scared and told him I hadn't seen it, and he asked me to watch it and get back to him on Wednesday."

For a few moments there was just silence. Blaine looked lost in thought, and Kurt had basically reached the end of his story. Finally, Blaine spoke.

"What _did_ you think of it?"

Kurt didn't speak for a few moments. What did he think of it? On the one hand, it was really creepy that someone was essentially making sex tapes for him. But at the same time… it felt incredibly flattering. And God, okay, it was damn sexy too. At the time his heart had been pounding so fast he thought he might pass out.

Now he just had to explain that to Blaine without sounding like a total pervert.

"I suppose I liked it. It's flattering that he went to the effort. But it's still wrong! He shouldn't be doing this, it isn't healthy!" And before Blaine could answer, he added, "Besides, I don't even like him. Why would I want to consider him in any way sexually attractive?"

"You know," said Blaine, with a pensive air, "there's no rule that says you're only attracted to people who are nice to you, or that you can't be physically attracted to someone you hate. Not that I'm saying you are attracted to him," he disclaimed quickly, "but anyway."

Kurt sighed. "Blaine, I get that, really. What I don't get is what on earth I'm going to say to him on Wednesday. I don't like him doing this, it isn't healthy and it's not safe."

"Well, maybe you need to tell him that. Tell him that no matter how much you enjoy his videos, it doesn't make them a good idea. I mean, why do you think he's making them?"

Because you tore his self-esteem to shreds, the rational part of his brain supplied. "I think maybe he's uncomfortable with himself," he said.

"Then let's run with that," Blaine suggests. "So he's putting videos of him doing things to his body on the Internet. He's trying to feel more comfortable with himself by seeking reinforcement from others. Maybe, in a way, this video was a cry for help?"

"What do you mean, a cry for help?" asked Kurt, frowning.

"I mean that, in all likelihood, you're the only other gay person he knows. Who else is he going to turn to if he feels that no one can relate to him?" Kurt shook his head, not understanding, so Blaine continued. "Do you think that maybe he made this video as a way of just getting you to talk to him? You said he was on the hockey team. It must be hard for him, being gay in such a homophobic environment."

Kurt felt a horrible emptiness as the implication sunk in. Karofsky was getting naked and doing this stuff to please him, because he thought it would be worth it if it meant having someone he could talk to about what he was going through. He was whoring himself out for Kurt's attention. God.

"Kurt," said Blaine, leaning forward and touching his hand, making him start a little. "I think you should consider that you are possibly the only person Dave has to turn to for advice or support. Or at least, he thinks you are."

Kurt simply nodded, not sure what to say.

"I think you should consider talking to him. Maybe meet him in a neutral place. I'll come along, if you want me to, but he might prefer just talking to you."

"And then what?" Kurt asked, genuinely unsure. "What exactly am I meant to do for him?"

"Same thing I do for you," Blaine replied solemnly. "Just be there. Give him someone to talk to, someone who understands some of what he's going through. You have me, but Karofsky… Karofsky doesn't have anyone."

And just like that, Kurt knew that he didn't have a choice any more.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note [and TRIGGER WARNING, real life death ahead]: <strong>_A lot of people have been wondering if I've abandoned this story. To them, and to everyone else who has been waiting for an update or wondering where the heck I've been, I sincerely apologise. Around the time I published my last update, my boyfriend went into hospital, and three days later he passed away from a cardiac arrest. Writing this, and many other things about Glee, became very painful for me. If you want to know more, search for "Beyond the Kurtofsky/Klaine 'ship wars" (with quotes) in Google and you'll find my blog post about it._

_But seriously, it has been over seven months now, and even if things are still not where they were, I'm a lot better. So just enjoy the story, please, because there is more to come, and I_ _**will** finish it! This isn't the best chapter and I nearly scrapped it and started over, but given the long wait since the last chapter I decided people would appreciate Kurt's little summary to Blaine._

_Thank you, everyone, for waiting patiently all this time._


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